


Sweetheart With Blue Eyes

by NotSteve



Series: Modern Braime Bunch AU [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Post canon, mature language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-07 12:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19085449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSteve/pseuds/NotSteve
Summary: Brienne wants Jaime to do something and Jaime grudgingly agrees.





	1. Chapter 1

“Yes, father,” Brienne said so formally it was as if she were speaking with her boss Catelyn Stark. But it was Selwyn Tarth, her dear father, on the other line. “Ten _today_? I thought… Yes, of course I can pick you up. It won’t be an issue.” Jaime watched as she paced her small kitchen, nodding at whatever her father was saying. Her face went bright red and she briefly glanced Jaime’s way. He gave her a cheerful wave as she turned away. “Yes, father—I’m still here. Of course. I’ll see you at ten. Love you too. Bye.”

She closed her flip phone—because, yes, Brienne of Tarth still had a flip phone in 2019 and was too stubborn to upgrade—and turned to Jaime. He looked at his own phone, the newest iPhone in market, to see the time: eight forty-five. The Westeros airport was an hour away from Brienne’s place; they would have to leave now if she wanted to be there when he landed. He grabbed his car keys and stood.

Brienne had opened her fridge door and pulled out the carton of orange juice when she heard the jingle of his keys. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t we head out?” he said, gesturing to her phone. "He lands in about an hour."

She shook her head. “His flight comes in at ten o’clock tonight,” she told him simply.

“Oh,” he said, throwing his keys back down onto the table.

She turned from him, so he crept up behind her and wrapped his arms around her wide waist. She tensed for a moment—a terrible habit Jaime was determined to help her kick—then relaxed in his arms. He still had trouble believing that the most honorable woman in Westeros loved him back. He had confessed his love to Brienne at Sansa Stark’s graduation party three weeks ago, but it took almost a week to convince her he was being genuine.

She hesitated before placing an awkward kiss on his stump. He hugged her tighter and kissed her ruined cheek. “I could stay like this forever.”

She let go of his stump and turned her attention back on the orange juice before her. She grabbed a cup from the cabinet above and poured some juice into the glass. Jaime still had her in his arms. He dug his face into her neck, and she let out a surprised squeak at the sudden touch. He was determined to get her used to his touches, because he intended to touch her every day for the rest of his life, whether it be long or short. “Maybe we can get dinner before we pick him up tonight,” he began. He felt Brienne tense in his arms again. “Tyrion told me about this new Dornish place downtown.”

“Jaime…”

“Or we can stay in,” he continued. “I can make the Pentoshi salad.” He brushed her hair aside and began placing light kisses on her neck. “And you can make everything else.” Brienne was a far better cook than Jaime, but she always had him make the Pentoshi salad.

For a moment, she seemed to melt in his arms and Jaime’s cock stirred. He stopped. They had slept together many times, even before they started dating, but it was always just sleeping. Brienne was still the “Maid of Tarth”, as some of her less than kind male coworkers occasionally called her, and she wasn’t ready to go any further. She was still so young, still so innocent. The farthest they had ever gone was at Tyrion’s cocktail party last weekend when they had a few drinks and started making out down in the wine cellar. It got so hot, they even unconsciously began taking each other's clothes off. Brienne stopped it when she felt his erection rub against her thigh.

“Jaime,” she said softly. She couldn’t look at him and his heart fluttered. _Just say the word, Brienne, just say the word, and I’ll rip your clothes off and take you right here on the counter_. He would, if she asked him to. “I don’t want you coming with me when I go pick up my father tonight.”

He pulled away. “What?”

“And I don’t want you here when we arrive back.”

He laughed, though it was a high-pitched confused laugh. “Are… are you breaking up with me?”

Her face went bright red and he saw the panic in her beautiful blue eyes. “No! No, no,” she told him quickly. She reached for him, but drew back, not knowing how to comfort him. “My father, he’s… he’s old fashioned, Jaime. And you’re quite a bit older than I am. If he were to see us _together_ … sleeping in the same bed—It’d be best if we sleep separately in our own apartments tonight. You can meet him tomorrow, over breakfast.”

He had only been back to his own place to get clothes for Brienne’s apartment. Honestly, he was thinking of selling his damn place and moving in permanently with Brienne, if she allowed it.

“You’re a grown woman, Brienne,” he said. “Surely your father understands that.” He wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her in for a sweet kiss.

She pulled away. “Jaime, please,” she said.

He longed to hear her say those words. But in his mind, she always moaned them to him, and he was always between her legs sucking on her nub when she said it. He made no effort to hide his frustration when he scooped up his keys and headed for the door. “As my lady wishes,” he said, slamming the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has a talk with Tyrion; Brienne talks with her dad

“She doesn’t love me.”

“Well, of course she loves you,” said Tyrion. He was beside Jaime, holding out a bottle of whiskey for his dear brother. Jaime took it and merely examined the liquid inside; it was almost eleven am on a Saturday morning, no such time for drinking.

“Then why doesn’t she want me to meet her dad?”

“Did she say those words exactly?”

“ _No, but the wench sure as bloody hell implied it_.”

He looked at his phone and smiled at the picture set as his background: a picture of him and Brienne he snapped on their first date. He wanted to impress her with his Lannister riches for their first date, but he knew Brienne was above all that, so they settled for a romantic dinner and a moonlight dance on the roof of Brienne’s building. Tyrion and Podrick, the boy Brienne mentored, helped him set it up. The food was a bit bland—due to it being made by a one-handed man and a small boy—and their dancing skills were all but graceful—by the end of the night his feet ached from her accidentally stepping on his toes the whole time. But it was perfect; _she_ was perfect. He took the photo later that night when they were snuggling together on her couch.

She called him after he stormed out of her apartment. He was too upset to answer, and she hadn’t called back since. The message she left for him was simple: “Jaime, I’m sorry. Please call me back.”

Jaime sighed. “I… I wish I was good enough for her,” he said. “I wish I was a man more deserving, someone she would be proud to introduce as her…”

“…her what exactly?” asked Tyrion. He grabbed the whiskey from Jaime’s hand and chugged it down. “Friend? Foe? Lover?”

 _All those things and more_ , thought Jaime.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his hand and Brienne’s face appeared on screen. He let it ring. Jaime wanted nothing more than to answer it, be done with this whole quarrel, and hear her sweet voice on the other line apologizing to him. He knew he would forgive her the minute he heard her—the second, if she were crying—but he still wanted to sulk. He already decided to forgive her, in the car while listening to her voicemail, but he wasn’t ready to let her know that. Finally, it stopped ringing. He was going to send her a text at noon, telling her he was sorry for being so dramatic and to ask if she would like to meet him somewhere for lunch. He waited for her voicemail. It never came. Nor did her response when he texted her at noon.

* * *

 

“ _By what right does this wolf  have to judge the lion? Lannister stocks are at an all-time high while the Stark company can barely keep its head above water. Even after the—_ ”

Brienne switched the radio off. She had enough on her mind, she didn’t need the stress of possible unemployment adding onto it. She believed Mrs. Stark would get through this, as she did after her husband’s unfortunate death. Jaime had reassured her that Stark Enterprise was too powerful, and too ancient, to go under, though Brienne wondered if he only told her that to ease her worries. She believed Jaime told her many lies just to stop her from worrying.

Rain began to trickle down the window and she turned on her windshield wipers. Her father had just called to tell her his plane landed, and he was now retrieving his baggage. She pulled into the airport and searched for him in the crowd of people. She had to loop around a few times before she saw him, wearing a bright blue raincoat and hat; he looked more like a fisherman than an airplane traveler. She parked and made to get out to help put his luggage in the back.

“No, no,” he said, urging her back in the car. “Stay dry. I’ve got it.”

Brienne obeyed and watched through her rear view mirror as her father put his suitcase in the back. A yawn escaped her mouth and her mind went to Jaime. They were always in bed by ten. He would snuggle in close to her and Brienne would pretend not to feel his groin rub against her. And then they would fall asleep in each other’s arms. It would be their first night apart in three weeks. She pulled out her phone, instinctively wanting to call him and see how he was. He had texted her earlier, but Mrs. Stark had called before she got his text, asking her to come into work, and she was too busy to respond for most of the day. She tried calling him after work but, again, he did not answer. She texted him before she left to pick up her father and he sent back a simple thumbs up emoji. She hoped that meant they were okay.

The car door slammed, and she turned to face her father. He removed his coat and hat and carelessly threw them in the back seat. “Hello, Brienne. How are you?” They shared a quick shoulder to shoulder hug before a truck behind them honked, possibly wanting them to leave so they could have the spot. “ _Sheesh, welcome to Westeros_ ,” he mumbled out as Brienne drove off.

She smiled at the comment, putting her phone back in her pocket. “I’m fine, father,” she answered plainly. “How was your flight?”

“Yes, it was fine,” he said, looking over his shoulder and examining the back seat of her car. She had cleaned it before she left; Jaime and Pod both had a habit of leaving junk back there, specifically garbage from fast food places. “A tad bumpy, but otherwise… Say, when will I meet this Jaime Lannister fellow you’re always hanging around?”

Her face went red. “I don’t know. Hopefully some time while you’re here.”

“I’m surprised he isn’t here with you tonight.”

“You are?”

“Yes, you two seemed inseparable for the last few weeks,” he said. “Every time I call, you’re with him.”

She straightened her posture and focused on the road before her. “About that,” she said. “Jaime and I… we’re together now.”

“Oh.” She waited for the backlash. She waited for him to lecture her on the importance of safe sex and the dangers of dating older men, like he had done when she told him she was going on a date with Hyle Hunt a couple years ago. But none of that came. In fact, he remained silent for most of the car ride home. She wondered what that meant.

“You know, they served peanuts on my flight,” he spoke finally. “I told the flight attendant that not everybody likes peanuts. And some people are allergic, even. They offered me pretzels.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is determined to see Brienne.

Jaime remembered the first time he climbed the ladder up to Brienne’s apartment. It was two years ago, after her date with Hyle Hunt, the bastard. It was far from an actual date, however. She did not speak much about the date to Jaime, but what she did open up to him about, Jaime concluded the whole thing was a cruel joke at Brienne’s expense. She refused to answer her phone and wouldn’t let him in her building, so he took matters into his own hands and let himself in. It was the first time they shared a bed. He opened her window and climbed inside—for a moment, she stopped her weeping and looked at him with confused, glossy blue eyes—and then he joined her in bed and let her weep in his arms. That may have been the first time he realized he was in love with her.

It was hard to climb a building with only one hand. He attempted to bring pizza up with him one time, but when he reached the third floor of the building, it had slipped from his grasp and landed sloppily on the ground below, pizza sauce and cheese splattered everywhere like blood oozing out of corpse. Brienne gave him a key afterwards, making him promise never to climb up the ladder again, fearing it wouldn’t be the pizza falling next time.

But tonight, he had to see her. The bars were slick from the recent rain, but not even an angry bear could stop him tonight. He climbed up slowly and carefully, for Brienne's sake. When he arrived at her window, he took a moment to look at her sleeping figure through the window. She had the covers pulled over her head and slept soundly on his side of the bed.

_Miss me do you, wench?_

He crept his way inside, removed his shirt and pants, and slipped in beside her, undetected. She stirred in her sleep and he snuggled in close. She was warm. He was tempted to wake her with a sweet kiss. He rubbed her thigh gently. Her foot rubbed against his leg and her sharp toenail poked his skin. He hissed in pain. “You really must trim your toenails. They’re awfully sharp.”

“I beg your pardon?”

It wasn’t Brienne’s voice that spoke. The figure switched on the light. Jaime quickly sat up. “Mr. Tarth,” he stuttered out. “It’s so… It’s lovely to finally meet you, sir.” He coughed, awkwardly scooting himself away from the older man. “I… I trust you—had a good flight?”

Selwyn Tarth observed Jaime carefully—Jaime was surprised he was being so quiet. If he found that a stranger had slipped into his bed in the middle of the night, he would immediately start fighting them, after he got over the shock of it all. He supposed Selwyn was still in shock mode. “Am I to presume that you are my daughter’s boyfriend?”

“Er—yes, sir,” he said. “Jaime Lannister, sir.” He held out his hand for Selwyn to shake; unsurprisingly, Selwyn did not shake it.

“Yes, I’ve heard much about you.”

Jaime flashed him his most charming smile. “All good, I hope.” When Selwyn said nothing, he continued: “What are you doing in Brienne’s bed?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“And I am her father,” said Selwyn. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably underneath the sheets.

Jaime sighed. “Mr. Tarth, Brienne is an adult—"

“I love my daughter."

“I love your daughter, too.”

“And most men that pursue her—”

“I’m not like most men.”

“I don’t want to see her get hurt—”

“I don’t intend to hurt her.”

“What exactly do you _intend_ to do with her then?”

“Marry her. Love her for the rest of my days.”

Selwyn only nodded at that. He examined the clock on the bedside table; it was three o’clock in the morning. “We'll talk about this tomorrow. I kindly ask you to leave my bed. It is late and I wish to sleep more,” he said, gesturing to the door. “Go on. You’ll find her in the living room. On the sofa bed.”

 

He found Brienne sitting at her kitchen table, with her flip phone open in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She was looking at a blurry picture of Jaime and Pod with a long snake wrapped around them. He smiled, remembering that day. She had taken the picture last month at the zoo. Pod was too terrified to hold the snake alone, so Jaime went with him to do it.

“Jaime…” she breathed out. She set the phone and tea down and sighed.

“Brienne.”

She jumped at his voice and stood. “Jaime!” She looked from her bedroom door to Jaime, who stood in front of it. “Were you—”

“Ah, yes, well, I might have climbed in bed with your father,” he said. Brienne’s face went a bright red. “Nice man. Very cuddly. Needs to trim his toenails, though.”

“ _Jaime_ —"

He shushed her. “He asked me not to wake him again. What are you doing up so late?”

“I… couldn’t sleep—I should go in there and talk to him,” she said, walking to her bedroom.

Jaime grabbed her by the wrist and twirled her into his arms. “He is sleeping, Brienne.” He kissed her chin, her cheek, then finally her lips. “As you should be.”

“Same for you,” she said softly. She hesitated before placing her large hands on Jaime’s chest and bowed her head slightly, unable to face his beautiful gaze. “Jaime… I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“And I’m sorry for my stubbornness, wench. Can we go to bed now?”

“Jaime…”

He placed a gentle kiss on her big lips. “Brienne.”


End file.
